Page 52 of Meant to Be
“Intended?”
“A nurse was stabbed yesterday, but we believe the attacker thought she was Syd… Doctor Preston.”
“That changes things.”
“Yes. I was hoping to talk to you about who you looked at. I’m happy to share what we’ve got as well.”
“Can you hold on? I’m just walking in and have the file at my desk.”
“Sure. Thanks.” Mitch poked the files on his desk with his pencil. He had a few cases, mostly involving theft. He imagined it was nothing like what was on Detective Fletcher’s desk.
“Okay. Doctor Preston. We looked at several men but don’t have anything hard. Witnesses, including Doctor Preston, didn’t have details. There was no helpful evidence left at the scene. How about down there?”
“Same. It was raining. The victim didn’t see her attacker. Syd… Doctor Preston reported she hadn’t seen hers either.”
“That’s right. We looked at her male acquaintances, but there’s nothing solid on any of them.”
“What about the doctor who followed her from Jordan? A Doctor Singer.”
“Yeah, he was high on my list. He has an alibi. It’s soft, but hard enough to keep us from going further.”
“And Doctor Andres?”
There was a pause, and Mitch imagined Fletcher was reviewing his notes.
“Longtime friend. She stayed with him after the attack. Same thing, soft alibi. Says he was running in the park. She insists it wouldn’t be him.”
“Did you ever have Jagger Talbot on your list?”
“As in G.W. Talbot’s grandson?”
“Yes.”
“No. Why would he be on the list?” Fletcher’s voice held both surprise and intrigue.
“He’s currently in Charlotte Tavern. And he and Sydney are acquaintances.”
“I don’t know anything about Charlotte Tavern, but that sounds like more than a coincidence.”
“That was my thinking. I’ll be talking to him.”
“Don’t let the Talbot family lawyers know or you won’t get within a mile of him.”
Mitch knew Jagger came from a famous-for-being wealthy family, but for the most part, he’d known him as the kid he’d hung out with during summers. Still, Jagger was no dummy, and Mitch would need to tread lightly if he wanted to interview him.
“I’d appreciate hearing about it if it leads to anything,” Fletcher finished.
“Will do.” Mitch hung up and then dialed the Marriott Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C. The hotel was able to confirm a shrink conference but needed a warrant to give confirmation that Doctor Andres was in attendance. He needed to talk to Patrick in person but wasn’t looking forward to driving to Washington, D.C. and back. First, he’d pay Jagger a visit and make arrangements for another officer to check on Sydney while he was gone.
Charlotte Tavern was a small, rural city nestled at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains in central Virginia. For the most part, the town was populated by what the rest of the nation would call country folk. Over the last ten years, it had become a popular retirement spot for Yankees wanting less harsh winters, although Charlotte Tavern got at least one good snow a year. The outskirts of town were dotted by horse farms and large estates owned by the rich and sometimes famous. For the most part, the only year-round residents of these homes were the caretakers.
Such was the case of the Talbot estate, bought by Jagger’s grandfather, G.W. Talbot, during the 1970s, when Secretariat made horse racing popular. The horses had been sold off long ago, mostly because old man Talbot lost interest and his son, Jagger’s father, who, as far as Mitch knew, had never been to the farm, wasn’t interested either.
Like many of the wealthy families that owned land and property in Charlotte Tavern, the Talbots’ farm was a vacation home to get away from their busy lives in New York. When Mitch was in his teens, Jagger spent most of his summers in the area. Mitch had always been wary of the rich folk, mostly because they kept to themselves and always seemed to look down their noses at the local residents. But Jagger hadn’t. He and Jagger, along with Chelsea’s brother Brian, had become fast friends and spent most of their time together during the summers, swimming in the quarry, fishing, exploring the woods, and doing all the things boys enjoy doing.
Jagger had developed an interest in girls earlier than Mitch, but Mitch soon learned to appreciate spending time with the opposite sex. While they still fished alone, most of the swimming was done with the companionship of blossoming teenage girls. But once they graduated from high school, Jagger rarely visited Charlotte Tavern. In fact, Mitch couldn’t remember seeing him there since that last summer when they were both seventeen and Mitch had finally lost his virginity, apparently later than most boys.
Now Jagger was moving to Charlotte Tavern permanently. Mitch knew Jagger’s grandfather had died recently and wondered if he’d inherited the house. Jagger’s world, like Sydney’s, was in New York. For most city Yankees, southern living was too slow. Even his brother-in-law, Drake, occasionally whisked Lexie away up North, usually saying something about needing good pizza and a Broadway show. It made no sense to Mitch. They had pizza in Charlotte Tavern, although why have that when you can have barbecue?
